


The Babysitters

by liztrade



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liztrade/pseuds/liztrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mycroft's evening is full, he makes Sherlock and John watch over the infant he is supposed to be babysitting. Over the course of a few hours, John watches Sherlock's attitude change towards the child, and he learns that he really doesn't know everything about Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Babysitters

_Buzz. Buzz._

Sherlock rolled his eyes when he saw the caller ID come up on his phone.

“What?” he asked, dropping beads of liquid from a pipette into a beaker.

“I need to ask a favor of you,” Mycroft answered.

“Not now, I'm busy.”

“Your experiment can wait.”

“No it can't. A man's livelihood may depend on my findings.”

“Sherlock, that trial doesn't start for another week.”

Sherlock put the pipette onto the table and stared at the contents in the beaker. “How did you know about that case?”

“I'm not daft, I read about it in the papers.”

“Yes, and as you probably have realized, Lestrade has it all wrong.”

He heard his elder brother chuckle. “He may indeed, but your experiment can be finished later tonight. This will only take up a few hours of your time.”

“No.”

“You haven't even heard what it is yet.”

“My answer is no, Mycroft.”

“Sherlock, I'll find more cases for you if you'll just behave and listen to me.”

Sherlock huffed and leaned forward in his chair. So far, the experiment was going as planned. He could spend a few minutes listening to his brother. “Alright, fine. What do you need?”

“That's better. I need you to babysit for me.”

“What?”

“I need a babysitter.”

“Whose children?”

“So you'll do it?”

“I never said that. I was just wondering who entrusted their children to you, and why you're giving them to me to take care of.”

“It's only one child, an infant actually.”

“Mycroft-”

“I can't do it because I have to meet with the Indian Prime Minister this afternoon. It's very important, but you wouldn't care about that. Anyways, I thought that you and John could take care of her.”

“The Prime Minister?”

“No, Sherlock, the baby.”

“Whose baby is it?”

“I'm not at liberty to say, but you can call her Caroline.”

“You're not telling me who her parents are, so they're obviously powerful-”

“I'm glad that you've agreed to this-”

“I didn't agree-” Sherlock stopped talking. A car door was being shut outside the flat. He heard another one slam shut a few seconds later. “You didn't.”

“Just treat her like royalty. I'll collect her myself tonight at 10.”

The doorbell rang. “Mycroft!” Sherlock yelled.

“Good luck, brother.”

Sherlock looked at his phone as the doorbell rang again. The call had ended, and there was no use in calling his brother back. Defeated and annoyed, Sherlock sulked down the steps, not ready to greet this fresh hell that his brother had given him.

* * *

“Sherlock, I'm home,” called John as he walked into the flat.

“Sh!” A violin's song filled the air. John shook his head; if Sherlock was playing the violin, a case was giving him trouble. It was probably going to be a long night.

“So what it is it then?” John asked as he walked up the stairs. “A murder? A robbery?” He stepped into the living room and saw Sherlock standing by the sofa, playing his violin. A bassinet was set up next to him, a baby sleeping

inside. John froze by the door and felt his mouth drop open.

“That's a baby.”

“Oh well done, John,” Sherlock whispered. “I'm glad you know what a baby looks like. And do keep your voice down.”

“No, but why is there a baby in our flat?”

“Mycroft gave it to me.”

“Oh, Mycroft gave it- wait, what?”

“He called and had his driver drop her off an hour ago.”

“But why is she here?” John asked, moving towards the bassinet. The baby had dark curls and was dressed in a purple jumper and turquoise fleece trousers. She was sound asleep.

“My brother was supposed to watch over her, but he had a meeting with the Indian Prime Minister. I tried to give her to Mrs. Hudson, but for some reason she's not in her flat.”

“Sherlock, she went on a vacation with her sister to Edinburgh two days ago. She won't be back until tomorrow night.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I had no idea. Anyways, she wouldn't stop crying-”

“Who?”

“The baby, John, who else? She kept crying; it was ghastly. I tried feeding her, but she wasn't hungry, and her diaper didn't need to be changed. I started to play the violin to block out her screaming, and she just stopped! She's sleeping now, and I don't want it to start again.”

“What's her name?”

“Mycroft told me that we're to call her Caroline.”

“Is that her real name?”

“Yes, I believe so. All of the baggage that came with her has that name written all over it.”

“Sherlock,” John said as he took a seat on the sofa. “Whose baby is in our flat?”

“My brother said to treat her like royalty,” Sherlock said, a smile creeping onto his face.

John felt his heart beat faster. “And is she?”

“That's the question. Judging by her bassinet, toys, and other things she came with, I believe that she is. I don't know why her parents entrusted their baby to Mycroft, but one of my theories is that he owed them a favor.”

“Mycroft doesn't normally owe favors.”

“Yes, well I don't know half the things that my brother does. He likes to keep things hidden.”

“Anyways, back to the baby, how long is she staying with us?”

“What time is it?

“7:00.”

“Is that it? She's only been here two hours then. Mycroft's picking her up at 10:00.”

“How old is she?”

“I don't know, ten months?”

“Sherlock,” John said, looking around the room, “our flat isn't even close to being baby-proof. There's a knife in the mantlepiece.”

“I don't think the baby's going to be up there,” Sherlock muttered.

“That's not it though, Sherlock. There are poisonous chemicals in the kitchen. I don't even know what's on our floor half the time. Not to mention my gun, but our flat is the worst place for a baby.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Go clean up then.”

“What?”

“Well, I can't. I don't want her to wake up yet.”

John grumbled as he went to the closet for the vacuum. He'd only put a hand on it when he heard a disapproving sound from his flatmate. He reached for the broom and received a “mhmm”. He quickly swept around the flat, picking up everything that didn't belong on the floor. A pile of papers was soon created in the corner of the living room. John had tried to throw them out, but Sherlock quietly explained that he may have further use for the papers and had not cataloged them yet. After a brief argument that ended with Sherlock threatening to send emails to all of John's ex-girlfriends, John left the papers alone. Soon the flat was the cleanest it had been since they had moved there.

“Sherlock, what are we going to feed her?” John asked when he put the broom back.

“Oh, she came with food. It's in the refrigerator.”

A small murmur came from the bassinet. John quietly walked over and was met with two big brown eyes. “Hello,” he cooed. “My name's John. Um, welcome to our flat!” The little girl smiled a toothless grin, and John gently lifted her out of the blanket. “You know,” he said turning to Sherlock, “I never thought I'd be entertaining royalty at Baker Street.”

“She's probably the farthest thing from being queen,” Sherlock answered as he returned his violin to its case. “She has too many cousins, aunts, and uncles before her.”

“Still, she's royal!” Caroline was now grabbing at his hair and John laughed. “Don't try that with Sherlock,” he whispered.

“Don't try what with me?”

“Nothing. It's nearly 7:30.” He tickled the baby's stomach. “Do you want some dinner? I bet you do! Yes? Dinner?”

“John, don't talk to her like that, it's insulting,” Sherlock said, stepping over the coffee table to join them. “Caroline, would you like to eat your dinner?” The baby simply stared at him before looking at John again.

“Right, well I don't see that conversation going anywhere,” John said as he walked to the kitchen. “Sherlock, can you set up her highchair? It just attaches to the table.” He opened the door, paused, and let it shut itself. “Why?” He bowed his head before looking in the refrigerator again. “Why did you put her bottles next to that jar of fingers?”

“Was I not supposed to put them there?”

“No, Sherlock, I don't think you were.”

Caroline giggled and reached for the jar as John grabbed her food.

“I think she wants to perform an experiment,” said Sherlock.

“And I think she just likes the colors. Those are really gross, by the way. Why do we have them?”

“Borrowing them from the morgue,” Sherlock replied as he took Caroline from John and slid her into her seat.

John couldn't remember having a dinner that was more amusing. Caroline kept a good majority of her food off of the floor, though she did enjoy throwing pieces of cereal at Sherlock at various times. Sherlock kept a keen watch on her, studying every move and detail. John wondered how many experiences Sherlock had had with babies. He wasn't an uncle, and he didn't grow up with younger siblings. There could be cousins, but John had never heard Sherlock or Mycroft mention any. The only small children that he could think of were those in cases that Sherlock encountered, but even then there were very few of them.

After their meal, John put their dishes in the sink before joining Sherlock and Caroline in the living room. They were both sitting on the floor, and brightly colored toys were scattered around them.

“Fascinating,” Sherlock muttered.

John handed Caroline a teddy bear before turning to his flatmate. “What is?”

“The baby's mind. It's so small, but it's so much more impressive than the normal brain, no offense, John.”

“None taken- no, Caroline, come back!” John quickly stood up and stopped the baby from crawling to the staircase.

“Look how eager she is, John,” Sherlock continued. “She wants to see and experience the world. She's not afraid of falling or failing. Those aren't even concepts in her little mind. Oh, how I envy her!”

John played with Caroline when Sherlock went back to his experiment. He'd said that he needed to check the results to prove his hypothesis, but John believed that he didn't want to admit that he was actually having fun with the baby. His solitude didn't last long because Caroline soon crawled over holding a plastic block. Sherlock picked her up and set her on his lap, describing the scientific process to her. John's own hypothesis was proved correct.

 

* * *

“Mycroft should have been here five minutes ago,” Sherlock grumbled as he curled up on the sofa with Caroline.

“I'm sure there's a good reason for it,” John reasoned.

“Well it's annoying, no, don't do that.” John looked up from his computer and saw Caroline grab at Sherlock's hair.

“I told her earlier not to try that.”

“If there's one thing I learned from tonight, it's that she doesn't listen to anybody. She also has the tendency to want to get her hands in everything.”

“All babies do that. Actually, she's just like you.”

“What are you trying to say?”

John smiled. “Nothing. I'm not implying anything.”

He felt Sherlock's gaze stay on him while he typed. “Don't you dare put this on your blog.”

“And why not?”

“It's not relevant to anything. And if you post this, then people would assume that we babysit regularly. I'm a consulting detective, John, not a babysitter.”

“Whatever you say.”

John heard Sherlock yawn followed by a soft sigh from Caroline. “Her breathing's slowed. I think she's falling asleep.”

He looked up and saw that the baby was asleep on Sherlock's chest. “I'll be right back. I've got to get my charger for the laptop.”

When he reached his room, he forgot where he'd placed his charger that morning. John searched through drawers and papers, looked under his bed, even taking a look in his closet. “Sherlock?” he called out the door. “Have you seen my charger?” When he didn't get an answer, he walked back down the steps. “Sherlock, do you know where my charger-” John stopped when he saw something he'd never expected to see. Sherlock was fast asleep on the sofa, and Caroline lay across his chest, her tiny hands clutching his shirt. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the peaceful scene. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought them to be father and daughter, their dark curls nearly identical. John draped a blanket over the pair before returning to his laptop, finding his charger under the chair.

The silence was brief. A few minutes after John had resumed typing, the doorbell rang. He stepped down the stairs and opened the door.

“Hello, John,” greeted Mycroft.

“Hi, Mycroft. Come on in.”

“Did everything go alright?”

“Yeah, things went fine. I'll just go get Caroline.”

John returned to the living room and nudged his flatmate. “Sherlock, Mycroft's here.”

“What?” Sherlock groggily asked.

“Caroline's got to go home. C'mon.”

“Right.” John tried to lift the baby off of Sherlock, but her hands tightly grasped his shirt. Sherlock looked up at John and sighed. “I'll put her in her car seat, John.”

“She wasn't too much trouble, was she?” John turned saw Mycroft holding Caroline's bag and highchair.

He shook his head. “No, it was fun, wasn't it, Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded as he stood up. He made his way to her car seat and place her inside it with a gentleness John had never seen before.

“So, brother, I'll send you the files to the Drew case next week,” Mycroft said as they made their way downstairs.

“Of course. I'm sure whoever is handling it is making a mess of it all,” answered Sherlock.

“Thank you again for doing this; her mother apparently trusts me more than the nannies.”

“And how did your meeting go?” John asked, putting the baby bag in the trunk.

“Oh, fine. Business as usual. Well, her car seat is attached and ready to go. Would you boys like to say goodbye?”

“Bye, Caroline!” John cooed, waving at the baby. “Sleep well tonight! Sherlock, do you have anything to say?” He turned and saw Sherlock slip back inside the building.

“He wasn't too dreadful with her, was he?”

“No, they got along. They got along really well.”

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. “Really? That surprises me.”

“It's Sherlock. Everything's a surprise,” John shrugged. “Well, bye, Mycroft.”

John shut the door and walked back to the living room. Sherlock was hunched over the table, apparently studying a beaker. “You alright?”

Sherlock looked up. “Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?”

“You didn't say goodbye to the baby, so I thought-”

“She's at an age where she won't remember that we babysat her or that we even exist. It doesn't matter.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

“John, I saw the picture on your phone.”

“What?”

“You just left it on the table and I didn't want to get mine.”

“Okay, and...?”

Sherlock smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. I think I'm just going to head upstairs.”

“Good night, John.”

“Night, Sherlock.”

John went to bed that night thinking about what had just happened over the past few hours. Sherlock had learned to care about a baby. John thought he knew everything about Sherlock, but it turned out that his mind was still a mystery.

**Author's Note:**

> I may write a companion piece to this story. There's a part of me that wants to write about Sherlock meeting the daughter he conceived with Irene after the rescue in Pakistan. I also really liked writing Sherlock interacting with the baby, so the sequel may happen.


End file.
